better days
Been holding this pain inside for so long
Though the rain never goes away
They say I should leave these streets behind me
But it's so hard to escape
Oh Lord please send me an angel
To lead me out of this place
Take me away, away
Far away, to better days
First thing I wanna do is say "What up" to T.I
King of the south, now everybody see why
I'm just driving and thinking how I survived here
And I ain't seen Dre and Eminem in five years
That sound Shady right, I live a crazy life
So many black thoughts I had to paint the Mercedes white
I could tell you 'bout the rims, but I ain't here for that
Going out like Big and Pac, I fear for that
Take this Lambo, and put six holes in it
Shut up the glass and leave my body exposed in it
Lift the doors up and let all of my demons out
And I can see my brother now cause that's what I've been dreamin 'bout
I ain't thinkin 'bout bitches or pulling Beamers out
I'm thinkin 'bout my sons' safety everytime they leave the house
I know how to make it out the hood, I seen the route
And here's the proof, me, Venus and Serena out
I'm sittin on these stairs at this church, 'bout to start a verse
And somewhere in the world, somebody 'bout to start a hearse
Tell me who inside it, Who's son is that
And how he get there, now tell me who gun was that
I ain't saying confess, definitely ain't saying snitch
But if you killed the nigga, help his mama dig his ditch
I'm from a hood where niggas gotta keep they gun cocked
And kids wear Dre Beats to stop the sound of gun shots
But at least they got the Dre Beats
Cause kids in Africa ain't even got shoes on they feet
And I seen it with my own eyes
At the same time I'm picking flies off my own eyes
Can you feel that, If you can hear 'em buzzin
You can feel the pain of Mike Tyson and his baby mother
They lost they baby daughter, and she was only three
She never got a chance to blossom on the family tree
Verse 3: The Game]
We got a new president and I love that he black
But I'mma ask him like Bush "Where the soldiers at?"
Now move the camera to New Orleans "Where the soldiers at?"
The water dried up, well nigga do the Nolia clap
We all juveniles, we all been through some trials
And some tribulations, I'm in this booth pacin'
What do I say next, should I talk about some cars?
Or the next chapter of my life and show you all my scars
All my bullet wounds and my stab wounds
I can't show you, I covered 'em up with tattoos
I can't do nothing but spit the truth
On probation, smoke and drink Patron before I hit the booth
You makin' songs for the club, when niggas drinking
I make 'em for the ride home, when niggas thinking
One minute you here, next minute shit is tragic
And this a Jim Jonsin track, now feel the static